first version read, “Bryan’s #1 objective for Q1 of 2017 is to start eating
correctly again so he feels better, looks better, and is able to hit his
long-term goal of 200 pounds at 10% body fat.”
Below that statement, Harris laid out a road map for achieving his
ideal outcome:
Phase #1: Get back to a strict “slow-carb” diet in Q1.
Phase #2: Start a strict macronutrient tracking program in Q2.
Phase #3: Refine and maintain the details of his diet and workout
program in Q3.
Finally, he wrote out each of the daily habits that would get him to
his goal. For example, “Write down all food that he consumes each day
and weigh himself each day.”
And then he listed the punishment if he failed: “If Bryan doesn’t do
these two items then the following consequence will be enforced: He
will have to dress up each workday and each Sunday morning for the
rest of the quarter. Dress up is defined as not wearing jeans, t-shirts,
hoodies, or shorts. He will also give Joey (his trainer) $200 to use as
he sees fit if he misses one day of logging food.”
At the bottom of the page, Harris, his wife, and his trainer all signed
the contract.
My initial reaction was that a contract like this seemed overly
formal and unnecessary, especially the signatures. But Harris
convinced me that signing the contract was an indication of
seriousness. “Anytime I skip this part,” he said, “I start slacking almost
immediately.”
Three months later, after hitting his targets for Q1, Harris upgraded
his goals. The consequences escalated, too. If he missed his
carbohydrate and protein targets, he had to pay his trainer $100. And
if he failed to weigh himself, he had to give his wife $500 to use as she
saw fit. Perhaps most painfully, if he forgot to run sprints, he had to
dress up for work every day and wear an Alabama hat the rest of the
quarter—the bitter rival of his beloved Auburn team.
The strategy worked. With his wife and trainer acting as
accountability partners and with the habit contract clarifying exactly